The Bounty
by Rambles12
Summary: Set in the late 1860's.  Story is completely AU. Elena's mother died a few years prior and her father disappeared a year ago. Damon Salvatore is a bounty hunter who returns to MF to bring Elena's father to justice in Texas where he is wanted for murder.
1. Chapter 1

_***This is the first story I have posted at this site and my first attempt at Vampire Diaries fanfic, cross your fingers it goes well. The story will be totally AU, set roughly between 1868 and 1870.***_

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_**~Chapter 1~**_

Mystic Falls, Virginia was the very last place he wanted to be. Ever.

That was saying a lot, as Damon Salvatore had made enemies in almost every state, county, or territory where he'd been. Aside from collecting a good number of the country's most notorious criminals, he'd also worked for both the North and the South during the Civil War; something many people didn't appreciate. As far as he was concerned, money was money. He did what he had to do to get by.

He'd left Mystic Falls five years ago at the age of nineteen, swearing a personal oath to never return. Yet here he was, riding at a break-neck pace to get to the town on which he had angrily turned his back. He was pushing his mount harder than was wise but the sooner he collected Grayson Gilbert and returned him to Texas, the quicker he'd earn his bounty and finally buy himself a nice parcel of land in some remote section of the Midwest.

When he came across the information that a man he knew from his past was wanted in Texas for murder, his first reaction had been disbelief. What were the odds that Mystic Falls would still find a way to haunt him when he was so far away? He'd turned to walk away from the Wanted poster intending to ignore it, but his subconscious had noted the reward and his feet didn't quite comply. A sum that large meant he could disappear where no one knew his name. He could live a peaceful life in a home he'd build on land that was his and his alone.

While there were others searching for Grayson Gilbert, Damon had a distinct advantage. The Wanted poster had a sketch of Gilbert, but no information other than a first name and that he had passed through El Paso on business, leaving carnage in his wake. Apparently when his request for new investors hadn't panned out, Gilbert killed those who turned him down and took whatever money they had on their person or in their homes.

The Grayson Gilbert Damon had known years ago was judgmental and haughty – maybe even a little mysterious – but Damon had never pegged the man as a murderer. A lot could change in five years though; even Damon had to acknowledge that.

Armed with knowledge that none of his counterparts had – namely a last name, an address, and a deep-rooted disgust at having to do this in the first place – Damon set off for Mystic Falls and the townspeople he wished he never had to see again.

That had all transpired a week ago, and now he was mere hours from walking up the front steps of the Gilbert's front porch, grabbing Grayson Gilbert and then turning right around and getting the hell out of Mystic Falls.

Again.

* * *

"You don't have to marry either of them, Elena."

With a weary sigh Elena Gilbert turned away from the mirror where she'd been dressing her hair to answer her aunt Jenna. "Yes I do, and you know that."

Worrying her hands in frustration, the slightly older woman paced. "There has to be another way. Alaric Saltzman has been quite attentive lately. I am sure if I were to give him any indication that I return his interest, I could get him to propose."

With an affectionate smile Elena responded to the doting woman who was more like a big sister or friend, "While I wish you would simply because I want to see you happy and I truly believe the two of you would be," she sighed, defeat entering her tone, "It wouldn't help. Alaric is a tutor; he does not make enough money to support the lot of us."

Jenna's brow furrowed, the feeling of helplessness making her utter the words she had tried so hard to avoid since they last heard from Grayson a year ago. "I just don't understand why your father did this. Why would he abandon all of us… especially with all of this debt? I know Jeremy is eighteen and a man by definition, but he has not a dime to his name and no mentor to guide him. He's stuck playing escort to his sister and aunt and has nothing to offer a woman of his own."

Stepping closer to the niece she'd watched age much too quickly since moving in with the family when their mother – and her sister – had died three years ago, Jenna finished in a whisper as she lightly stroked Elena's hair. "And there is you. You were always his favorite; his little girl. How could he leave us all to swing in the wind?"

Trying to remain positive – a trait she'd inherited from her mother – Elena ignored the stab of pain at her aunt's words and painted a smile on her face feigning lightness. For a reason she never understood, she'd always tried to make others feel better, even if she didn't feel that way herself. "Who knows Jenna, maybe he'll walk through that door tomorrow and all of this will be for nothing?" She swallowed before adding, "If not, then Stefan Salvatore or Tyler Lockwood are both wonderful alternatives to the financial difficulties we're having."

Despite her niece's effort, Jenna could tell that marrying either man to ensure her family's financial security was not the life Elena had planned for herself. She knew, however, that saying so would not ease Elena in any way. Deciding the subject had been discussed enough for the evening, Jenna began busying herself by straightening Elena's dress over her petticoats.

Ironically Elena had always found Stefan Salvatore attractive; she had a crush on him when she was still in the schoolroom. The man was everything Elena and her aunt would have wanted for her before, but _having_ to marry someone took some of the romance out of what should be a glorious occasion. Then there was Tyler Lockwood. He had even more money than the independently wealthy Stefan Salvatore, and he could guarantee Jeremy a place in business as his family owned a thriving shipping company.

Both men could provide for her family's necessities and then some; which was why Elena was primping herself for this evening's Founder's Ball. She was expected to be there as the Gilberts had been one of Mystic Falls' founding families and events like these were mandatory for her, but she was also going to spend more time with Stefan Salvatore and Tyler Lockwood. It was the only way she knew to save her family.

As she mindlessly put the finishing touches on her appearance, she couldn't help but think of the two men. Realistically, she couldn't lose; both had hinted that they would be more than willing to help her family should their future bring a union and neither of them was anything but kind to her. Sure there was talk in town of some of their less savory attributes, but realistically, who didn't have a shadow on his reputation?

In Tyler's case he was rumored to occasionally drink too much and have a bit of a temper. Stefan didn't appear to have any secrets of his own, but his family held some. His older brother Damon – who Elena vaguely remembered meeting when she was younger – was rumored to have killed their guardian, an uncle, before leaving town five years ago.

The older Salvatore had been tried and found not guilty, but the townspeople had been less than convinced of his innocence and let it be known. He reportedly left town shortly thereafter, signing over his uncle's substantial inheritance to his brother Stefan and turning his back on all things Mystic Falls. It was also rumored that he made his living as a bounty hunter and worked for both the North and South during the war. Whether any of it was true wasn't overly concerning to Elena, as the one bit of gossip she did believe was how vastly different the Salvatore brothers were from each other.

While either Stefan or Tyler would be a more than suitable match, Elena couldn't help but feel resentful that her marriage had become a financial necessity. Granted, money or social status was often the reason for marriage anyway; but she had hoped to be one of the lucky few who actually married for love.

Maybe she'd be fortunate enough that the genuine affection she felt for one of these men would someday become more. Maybe not, but at least her brother and aunt would have a roof over their heads.

Shaking herself from her morose thoughts, she gave herself one last cursory look in the mirror. When her eyes met the sympathetic reflection of her aunt, she did her best to smile brightly. She hated seeing that resigned sadness in her family's eyes. Their lives were going to change for the better, by God, and she'd do whatever it took to make that happen.

With a firm nod, she turned away from the mirror. Their luck was going to change. Starting tonight.


	2. Chapter 2

***Sorry to anyone who reviewed this chapter last night. I had to delete it when I realized I uploaded my unedited chapter and then resubmit it***

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_**~Chapter 2~**_

The night air was filled with the sounds of laughter, music, and a cacophony of voices. Couples whispered in secluded spots partially shadowed in darkness, mothers gossiped and planned their children's futures unbeknownst to their offspring, husbands talked politics and sipped brandy, and the young and eligible took turns twirling and gliding around the town's main fountain. Outdoor balls were invigorating, and every year on May 15th Mystic Fall's Founder's Ball was no exception.

For the past eight years on this day the Town Square served as the site of a magical ball under the twinkling night sky. The event marked the beginning of several days of celebration commemorating the town's official inception and the signing of its Charter by its most prominent families. Some revelers were known to over-imbibe, while others tended to ignore some of the more formal societal strictures, but most behaved themselves. Aside from an occasional and quickly forgotten skirmish, the night was usually a smashing success.

Looking around at the assembled faces as she stood out a dance to regain her breath, Elena Gilbert managed a small smile at the scene before her. Ladies' cheeks were pinkened from the exertion of continuous dancing, men's chests labored harder than normal to regulate their breathing, and the merriment evident in everyone's eyes was delightful to witness; even her Aunt Jenna seemed to be enjoying the levity of the night, her worries forgotten.

Elena wished she could feel the same joy as those around her, but she simply couldn't. No matter how much she wished she could put her cares aside for even a few minutes, her restless mind never allowed her to do so. In the years since her mother's death she had felt life closing in on her. She never minded the more adult role she had been forced to take, and she loved caring for her brother and took pride in managing their home, but she felt she'd lost a piece of herself that she hadn't been quite ready to give up. It was the side of her that had been lighter, more carefree.

When her father… disappeared, life became even more somber. It was as if she was always being chased by something she couldn't see or hear but that she knew was waiting to snatch her family away if she didn't find a way to keep it at bay. That meant moments like this, even though they were meant to be purely joyous, still felt tarnished by some kind of looming invisible threat.

"Would it be too bold of me to ask what thoughts just took the smile from your face?"

Elena startled at the warm timbre of Stefan Salvatore's softly spoken question; she hadn't sensed his approach. Quickly regaining her composure, she turned to address him. Sincere concern for her was evident in his nearly caramel-colored eyes; he truly cared for her. Something inside her stirred at the realization. Somewhere in the recesses of her mind she'd always known it. They'd been acquainted for years and he'd always been attentive, but this was… different.

When had he started seeing her as a woman? And how had she missed his transformation into a man?

She'd spent the last few years so absorbed in her family's needs it was as if she had somehow frozen the people around her in time, not having the luxury of noticing their obvious changes as she was too busy holding her family together.

Stefan Salvatore had grown into an incredibly attractive man. What had once been slightly exaggerated features – his harsh jawline, the cheekbones that jutted from his too-skinny face – were now strong; masculine. As he stood the proper distance away from her with his hands clasped behind his back, she noted how broad his shoulders had become, made obvious by the soft and pliant fabric of his overcoat pulling in response to his stance.

Realizing he would soon think she was a dolt for her lack of response, she shook her head before lightly laughing, "You'll have to excuse me, Mr. Salvatore. I was caught in my own inner dialogue and momentarily forgot to answer your question. I was thinking how fortunate we are the weather held, and hope we are as lucky for tomorrow's picnic."

With a slight smile and nod at her words, his eyes gave away his disbelief. She wasn't speaking the truth but he wouldn't push, not tonight at least. "I hope for good weather as well." He leaned in slightly closer and added with a teasing smile, "And I think we are way past the formality that would require you to use my surname. I used to stick your hair in my inkwell."

Before she could censor herself, Elena's shoulders shook with laughter, "Very true, and if I recall, Stefan, there was a time the pages of your school book were mysteriously glued together."

In mock horror, he responded, "That was you, Elena?"

The two shared a laugh before Stefan's smile slowly turned more serious, his eyes more intent. His focus caused warmth to spread over Elena's skin as her eyes nervously flicked away.

His voice deepened, "That's the smile I wanted to see."

He was helpless not to stare when she smiled. Elena Gilbert had always been one of the most beautiful women he'd ever seen. He had spent years wondering if she'd ever look at him the same way he did her and for a moment there, he could have sworn she had. He studied her as she watched the dancers before them who were lightly bouncing to the music.

With her hair upswept, the soft skin of her elegant neck was on glorious display. A few wisps of her chocolate locks had broken free to caress the sides of her face. Admiring the rest of her, he found the current fashion for ball gowns to be both a blessing and a curse. While Elena was not one to take the trend too far, her neckline was deep enough to show a hint of the perfection beneath, and the snugly fit bodice of her light blue gown confirmed his errant imaginings.

Clearing his throat, he tore his gaze away. It was entirely improper to let his thoughts wander as far as they had; he just couldn't seem to help himself when it came to Elena. Through the years since they'd left the schoolroom, they would occasionally bump into each other – one time quite literally – but running his estate and learning how to manage his family's investments had kept him from pursuing her the way he'd always wanted. He'd set out to change that a few weeks ago and he couldn't have been happier with the results thus far.

He found himself enchanted with her in every way. She was witty, smart, and unlike many of the other women their age; a good conversationalist. The few times he had called on her he found the time they spent together incredibly enjoyable; replaying the moments in his head for hours after. He couldn't help but silently chuckle to himself recalling the time one of his servants questioned his health when he found him all alone in a room smiling like a buffoon.

Stefan's mood quickly soured when his eyes caught those of Tyler Lockwood several feet away. The man was at the punch bowl, clearly filling a glass for someone other than himself as his eyes held the familiar glaze of too much bourbon. In Lockwood's condition, he wouldn't have bothered with such an unembellished fruit drink. With a sigh, Stefan prepared for Lockwood's inevitable approach. He knew Elena was too much of a temptation for other men not to notice; he just wished Tyler Lockwood was not one of them.

Hearing his frustrated breath, Elena turned to see what had prompted it. Noting the approach of Tyler Lockwood, she forced a smile onto her face. She was strangely annoyed at the interruption of her and Stefan's pleasurable moment, should she take that to mean something? Had her brain already decided the course of action she should take?

"You looked a little flushed from all of the dancing, Ms. Gilbert. I thought you might like a refreshment." Tyler passed the glass to the outwardly grateful Elena.

"Thank you very much, Mr. Lockwood."

The two men – fully aware they were each other's competition – gave stiff nods in greeting. Inwardly, Stefan congratulated himself on at least being on a first-name basis with Elena now.

"So sorry to interrupt, gentlemen." Elena's aunt Jenna had joined the group from seemingly nowhere. "But I must speak with my niece alone for just a moment." The two men graciously nodded their acceptance as Elena excused herself with a curtsey.

She inclined her head first to Tyler, "Mr. Lockwood." His chest seemed to puff with pride that she had acknowledged him first.

Turning to address his competition, she inclined her head again, "Stefan."

Tyler's face tightened as Stefan's smile bloomed.

* * *

Elena and Jenna each held one of Jeremy's arms as they awkwardly approached the porch steps of their once grand home. The young man had more drink than was prudent and was currently suffering the stumbling and nauseating consequences. In an attempt to appear no different from his peers, he'd matched them drink for drink despite not having their tolerance for it.

"I am so, so verrry s-sorry for this, Elena. I am always screwing th-things up for you."

While Elena had been thinking the very same thought only seconds earlier, hearing the remorse in her brother's voice banished it from her mind.

Ever since their father left, Jeremy had been feeling pressured. He knew he should step forward as the head of household but he didn't have the faintest idea how to go about doing so. Jeremy had constantly nipped at the heels of their investor father, wanting nothing more than to learn the trade and impress him but always falling hopelessly short. Unfortunately, he'd yet to find another trade he could pursue and perfect, leaving him feeling useless.

Not intending to, Elena's mind drifted to Tyler Lockwood. He could give Jeremy direction; make him feel important and needed. She sighed. Just when she thought she had it figured out, something always happened that changed her mind again.

Finally she responded to her brother, "Jeremy, don't be a ninny. You haven't ruined anything. You just had a bit too much… fun for one night. Something tells me when the overly bright sun greets you in the morning you will adequately learn your lesson and not repeat the same mistake."

Jenna laughed conspiratorially at Elena's warning of a hangover. She agreed that tomorrow was going to be far worse for Jeremy than tonight had been.

As the trio reached the first step, they moved in slow and disjointed movements to climb the four steps to the front porch.

Once they were safely at the top, Jenna nodded her head toward the mailbox on the side of the house. Knowing the task was not one Elena looked forward to but thinking it was preferential to stripping Jeremy for bed, Jenna suggested, "Mail came today. Why don't you check that and I'll get this one in bed?"

Smiling gratefully, Elena slowly released Jeremy's arm, having to recapture it briefly when he stumbled. Once the two were inside she took a deep and steadying breath. She hated mail day because it meant more requests to settle their debts. Over the past year she'd sold so many of the beautiful pieces her mother had purchased for their home, that she didn't consider it to be a feasible option any more. They still needed to maintain some semblance of appearances.

"Are you daft or are you frightened of a mailbox?"

The voice from the dark corner of her porch had her leaping back in fear, searching for anything she could use as a weapon.

"Never mind. If you are frightened of a mailbox, then you are decidedly daft."

The deep voice seemed to be moving, like the man had been sitting and had moved to stand.

Backing away and still searching for a weapon, she threatened, "If you come near me I will scream so loud the entire town will come running. You'll be arrested and jailed for trespassing."

His laughter lacked all humor. "Wouldn't that be ironic, appearing before a jury of Mystic Falls townspeople again."

He was definitely moving. In a few moments his face would be visible in the moonlight. Just as the words played in her mind, the man eased into the grey shafts of light illuminating a small section of her front porch.

The first thing she could see was the brim of a hat. Fear clenched at her chest but she did her best to hold her ground. What did he mean, _again? _Was the man some kind of outlaw, and she would die right here on her front porch? She wanted to scream but she didn't want to risk her aunt coming out and meeting the same fate.

"Wh-what do you want?" Her voice was a choked whisper.

Finally the man came fully into the light, his piercing blue eyes almost feral in the moon's glow. It didn't help that the eerie smile on his face was downright predatory. Strangely, seeing him didn't serve to increase her fear but neither did it ease it. She wasn't entirely sure what she should think.

His stance was casual, hardly the posture of a man ready to pounce. Assessing his outward appearance, hoping to find some indication of his intentions, she saw that he wore riding boots. His clothes were dirty but expensive. Putting that together with the layer of grime covering what she had to admit were surprisingly handsome features, she realized he had the look of a saddle-weary gentleman. There was also something… familiar about him.

Blatantly raking his eyes over her body, he responded, "Well, Ma'am, that would depend. What is your name?"

Elena's first thought was to lie but she couldn't think of a good name. Instead, she stumbled on her words, "E –Elena Gilbert."

The man's eyes lost their levity despite the smile still plastered on his face. "Well then, that's a shame. We could have been great… friends."

Taking a few steps closer to the beautiful young woman, he finished, "I'm here to take your father back to Texas. He has a date with a hangman and I'm here to make sure he swings."

Sucking in a shocked breath, Elena's hand flew to her lips. Millions of thoughts raced through her mind at once. The first was that this man was horribly wrong; her father would never have done anything that warranted hanging. He was kind, gentle, and incapable of any such dreadful crime. This man needed to be set straight.

Despite her anger, a sliver of doubt crept into her mind. _Why hadn't her father come home?_

Suddenly clarity of a different kind struck. The man was saddle-weary, he looked familiar, and he was a bounty hunter – albeit a misguided one.

While there was so much she wanted to say and do – namely slap him for unnecessarily terrifying her – she instead asked, "Damon? Damon Salvatore?"

The man startled slightly but recovered quickly, his arrogant smile back in place as he moved to lean one shoulder casually against one of the porch's pillars. "At your service, ma'am. Be a love and go tell your father I'm here. He and I need to get back to Texas, and the sooner the better."

The anger and frustration she'd felt incessantly for the past year burned almost painfully inside of her. She couldn't take it anymore.

Stepping closer and mimicking his carefree smile, she drawled, "Or you could just go to hell."

In a quick and fluid movement she opened the front door of her home, slamming it in his face.

Damon Salvatore was left standing there staring as he heard the door's lock slide into place. Flippantly he said to no one in particular, "I suppose that would be a no then?"


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: I wanted to thank all of you that took the time to read the first two chapters, and a special thanks to those that left reviews and sent messages offering to help me navigate this site :). Looking forward to hearing your thoughts as the story progresses. Also, just to be clear, this will be a Delena fic, just hang in there :).

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_**~Chapter 3~**_

With a groan of pure pleasure, Damon let his body sink into the steaming bathwater in the clawfoot tub, resting the back of his head on the rim. It had been entirely too many days since he'd had a soak like this, and after a week spent riding from sun-up to sun-down, this was just what he needed.

His eyes unconsciously drifted closed in response to the languid uncoiling of each muscle in his body, the warmth surrounding him the perfect balm for the aches and pains he'd acquired on the trail. Mindlessly, he reached for the whiskey he'd left on the stool next to the tub, proud of his dexterity in finding it with his eyes closed.

Taking a sip, he savored the burning heat that spread as he swallowed the amber liquid. Damn, he'd missed _good _whiskey. That was probably the only thing he envied of his brother's – well, that and his over-sized clawfoot tub.

Beginning to feel the effects of relaxation, he rather resented the intrusion of Grayson Gilbert into his thoughts.

Why wasn't the bastard home? From the looks of things, he hadn't been around for quite some time. The house needed painting, one of the front steps was rotted, there were no servants in residence and – based on what Damon remembered of the inside of the home when he'd seen it years ago – numerous pieces of furniture and decorative pieces had been sold. He'd discovered that when he took the liberty of letting himself in while he waited for someone to return.

When he inspected Grayson's bedroom, it smelled musty and the door had been difficult to open, sticking from disuse. The mail in the library had also been enlightening. Aside from an assortment of the ridiculous thank you notes women sent for the most mundane reasons, it consisted of bills and collection notices. He'd been perplexed by Elena Gilbert's partially-written response to one such notice, begging understanding as her father was currently unreachable.

The beautiful Ms. Elena Gilbert. Innocent victim, or talented accomplice?

Damon recalled the woman's reaction when he told her he'd come to bring her father to justice. She had appeared to be shocked. Was that real or an act? When he first saw the mail in her library, he assumed she was in collusion with her father, probably running some kind of subterfuge for him. He still wasn't convinced otherwise.

He grimaced. This job was supposed to be quick, easy. He should have known it wouldn't be. Nothing in Mystic Falls ever was.

It would appear that his only lead to Grayson Gilbert was his daughter Elena. Judging by her less than warm welcome, she wasn't going to take kindly to his continued presence in her life – but by God he was going to be present.

Sighing at his troublesome thoughts as well as someone's silent approach, Damon decided to tackle one issue at a time. "Hello, brother."

Resting his shoulder casually against the door of the bathroom before crossing his arms, the younger Salvatore's laugh lacked humor. "What are you doing here, Damon?"

Opening his eyes and letting his head loll to the side to look at his finely appointed brother, Damon answered, "It is great to see you too, Stefan. I take it from your tone that you've missed me?"

Shaking his head at Damon's predictable sarcasm, Stefan answered honestly. "Not that you would believe me, but yes I did, Damon."

Shifting uncomfortably in his previously soothing bath, Damon's shoulders tensed when a feeling akin to guilt rolled briefly through his stomach. It had been so long since he'd felt anything like the emotion, he almost didn't recognize it.

Pushing to sit upright, Damon tucked aside the unwelcome feeling as he put his glass back on the stool. Trying to appear unaffected, he grabbed the soap from its nearby dish and began to lather it between his hands. He wasn't here to reconnect and he wasn't sticking around; it was best if his brother didn't labor under false pretenses.

"While I find that very hard to believe, I don't want you worrying that I am here to complicate your perfectly vanilla life. My work brought me here and I won't be staying long."

Tired of his brother's perpetual cold indifference, Stefan took a steadying breath. Maybe five years ago he couldn't stand up for himself, but he wasn't that young teenager anymore. "Which part of my life is the vanilla part, Damon?"

Not actually looking for an answer, Stefan pushed on. "The part where our parents died when I was three? Or maybe it was the part where I found our uncle lying in a pool of his own blood missing half his head?"

Taking a few steps into the room, he didn't bother trying to mask his anger as he finished, "Oh wait, I know. You're referring to the part where I raised myself since I was fifteen because my only brother turned his back on me and walked away after I spent an entire _year_ defending his innocence to anyone who would listen."

His words were like acid-tipped arrows that directly hit their mark, but Damon would never let it show. He had left for Stefan's own damn good, even if his younger brother didn't realize it.

Damon's voice was a flat whisper, "I never asked you to defend me, Stefan, and I am not here to ask anything of you now. I will be leaving the moment my work is done."

God, Stefan hated him. He wanted to choke Damon, shake him until he fought back, until he showed any kind of emotion. Stefan had spent the last five years struggling with everything that had happened between them, wondering if he could have done anything different. Would his brother have stayed if he had? It was only in the last few months that he had finally stopped asking those questions and started looking forward again, planning a future for himself.

Unfortunately, spending five minutes with his brother had already stoked the embers of a past he'd mistakenly thought extinguished.

Damon had been his best friend, his mentor; he wanted to be just like him. Life had dealt them a less than easy hand and through it they'd formed a bond that he thought had been unbreakable; they'd been as tight as brothers could be. Most older siblings would have been annoyed when their younger brother shadowed their every move, but Damon never minded. He was witty, smart, and the most loyal and protective person Stefan knew.

That Damon had died the same day their uncle did. By God, Stefan missed him.

Over the past five years Damon sent the occasional letter letting him know where he'd been and including small anecdotes about his life. Stefan assumed Damon probably had sporadic bouts of guilt or nostalgia and remember that he'd left a brother in Mystic Falls. He probably sent the letters after too much drink and before he could think better of it.

Stefan wrote him too, only those missives sat unopened in his study downstairs. It was exceptionally difficult to send mail when you didn't have the faintest idea of the recipient's whereabouts.

Fatigued from what he knew would be a never-ending cycle of regret and disappointment, Stefan didn't push anymore. "I've deduced from your few letters and things I've read in papers that you're a bounty hunter." Incredulous, he asked, "Who in the world are you here for?"

Not bothering to dissuade his brother from the truth, Damon watched him for any kind of reaction as he answered, "Grayson Gilbert."

With that, Stefan knew their brief reunion was now over for two reasons, the first being the obvious fact that Gilbert wasn't here. The second – and more important – was Elena. Stefan would never allow Damon to hurt her or her family any more than they already had been. If he started poking around in the Gilberts' affairs people would put two and two together. While no one had definite knowledge of Damon's current occupation, there had been gossip.

"Let me save you the time and trouble. No one has seen him for over a year." Turning his back to leave, he added, "I'll tell Jonathan you'll be leaving in the morning and to be sure the maids have laundered your clothes."

He took two steps before Damon's voice stopped him.

"It won't be quite so easy to get rid of me, brother. I'm not leaving without Grayson, or at the very least information about where he may be."

Slowly Stefan turned back around, resenting Damon's persistence and the need to elaborate. "You're wasting your efforts. Most people believe he's dead. He went out West on business and never returned. The last his family heard from him was a letter sent from Tulsa about a year ago claiming he'd be home in a week. He never showed up."

Noting the edge in his brother's voice, Damon responded, "Thanks for the information, but if it is all the same to you, I'll be staying on a little while."

Knowing what that most likely meant, Stefan's shoulders straightened with tension. "Why, so you can harass Elena and her family for information they don't have? They've been through enough without the added gossip your queries would bring."

Damon quirked a brow, the same side of his mouth drawing up in a mocking grin, "Elena?"

Cursing his loose lips, Stefan huffed in annoyance before returning Damon's stare. He wasn't going to elaborate about their relationship – or potential relationship – to Damon or anyone else. He'd obviously implied too much by using her given name.

His silence only whetted Damon's appetite.

"My, my, little brother. Are you smitten with Ms. Gilbert?"

When no response came, Damon studied his brother, specifically noting his formal attire. It sparked his memory. "Ah yes, tonight would have been the Founder's Ball. That would explain why both you and Ms. Gilbert are wearing your finest."

Stefan took quick steps toward the source of his anger, wanting to wipe the smirk from his mouth. Instead he bellowed, "When did you see Elena?"

Damon's smile turned triumphant; he knew his brother would show his cards if he was pushed. "So you _are_ smitten with the lovely Elena? Tell me, does she know?"

Not deigning to answer his brother's baiting question, Stefan spoke slowly and emphatically, "Stay away from Elena. If you insist on pursuing your errant belief that her father did something unscrupulous, you'll only be inviting the gossipmongers in town to swoop in like vultures. The last thing she needs is for people to hear that a bounty hunter is looking for her father."

Damon's brows pulled as he mulled over Stefan's words. On one hand it was clear that his baby brother had some affection for this woman. On the other, what if she was using him? Damon wasn't entirely sure what to make of Elena Gilbert at this point – other than she was beautiful even if a bit spirited. If she was a con-artist then he'd do whatever it took to keep his brother from becoming her next victim. If she was as innocent as his brother believed, Damon truly wouldn't want to make her life more difficult.

Decisions. Decisions.

"No one needs to know why I am here, Stefan. I can spend time with the Gilberts without revealing my true reason for being here."

"Impossible, Damon. While no one knows for sure that you are a bounty hunter, most people have made that assumption based on the description of the notorious 'D. S. Hunter' who has been written about incessantly in periodicals."

Damon shrugged as an arrogant smile lit his features, "I am good, you know."

Stefan's impatience was evident.

"Relax, baby brother," he added sarcastically. "I'll leave hidden my lynching rope, six-shooter, and the cloud of dirt that perpetually hovers at my feet. I'll don my best Mystic Falls snobbery and no one will be the wiser."

As if to highlight his point, he made a show of lathering his body and hair to get them extra clean. "See, I'll be on my best behavior."

The confusion on Stefan's face was reflected in his tone. "I don't understand, Damon. What would be the point?"

With a smile, Damon disappeared under the water for a moment. He reappeared void of soap and wiping the water from his face. "The point, Stefan, would be to keep your precious Elena from being the recipient of unsavory gossip… at least about her father."

Stefan raised a brow in question, still not understanding Damon's logic.

With an irritated sigh, Damon explained, "While my career choice is not something the people in this town are actually sure about, they are sure of one thing: They believe me to be a heartless cad. No one would find it the least bit shocking if I were to suddenly show interest in the same woman as my brother."

Stefan fumed. "Pardon me?"

Damon laughed, "You're so uptight, Stefan. You really should take a holiday somewhere and try to unwind. I wouldn't _actually_ be trying to steal the lovely Elena's heart; my newfound affection for her would only be a ruse perpetuated by both me _and _her."

Stefan's brows pulled in confusion.

Frustrated with his brother's continued obtuseness, Damon elaborated, "You don't want people knowing I'm here looking for her father and neither will she, correct? I will… strike a deal with her. If she cooperates and publicly feigns a modicum of interest in me, I can then do things like stop by for tea and it won't arouse any suspicion." He added caustically, "Once I'm in her front door and no one is the wiser, I'll gladly leave her to her chamomile while I search her father's files."

Wanting to be sure he had heard correctly, Stefan asked, "And what will you do if she doesn't agree to this plan of yours?"

Damon shrugged, "I'm not leaving here without information on Gilbert. If she agrees to go along with the guise and grants me access to her father's personal effects, I will spare her family any unsavory gossip. If she doesn't, I will gather my information through normal means and everyone will know I believe her father to be a fugitive from the law."

Shocked, Stefan asked, "You're going to blackmail her?"

Damon waved a dismissive hand. "No need for dramatics, Stefan."

Finished with his bath, Damon stood; the water nearly cascading over the tub's porcelain edge in response to the quick movement. Sarcastically, he inquired, "Afraid of having some competition, brother?"

Stefan turned his back to his smirking brother. "Not in the least, Damon. She won't even let you in the front door."

_Or you could just go to hell._ As the woman's words from earlier that evening replayed in Damon's mind, he realized that Stefan seemed to have a point. However, when she was faced with the alternative of the whole town knowing that her father was suspected of murder, Damon had a feeling she'd acquiesce.

Stepping from the tub and reaching for a towel, he secured the cloth around his waist, unaffected by the droplets running from his hair down his chest.

Passing Stefan as he exited the bathroom, he paused to pat his brother on the shoulder. "You let me worry about that part, baby brother. Either way, I should be gone in a week's time. Once I get the information I need, your pure-as-the-driven-snow Elena can report to one and all that she gave the prodigal son a chance out of the goodness of her heart. Sadly, we didn't suit each other."

Damon smiled as if that was the answer to everyone's problems and padded off down the hallway.

Stefan was left standing there watching Damon's retreating back. His eyes drifted shut as his chest tightened. His brother was back, and with him had come an entirely new set of problems.


	4. Chapter 4

**_Sorry it took a bit too update, I am working on another story for a different show and it took a lot of time. Hopefully you enjoy this chapter and thanks to all of you who have been leaving reviews; it is appreciated more than you know! _**

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**Chapter 4**

Gently closing her brother's bedroom door, Elena smiled slightly at his parting words, _"I mean it, Elena. I am never, ever going to indulge again."_

Having checked on him several times over the course of the morning, she knew he had been suffering greatly from his previous night's mistakes. Unfortunately, some lessons had to be learned the hard way, and this seemed to be among those lessons. While she knew she shouldn't laugh, she couldn't help but find some humor in his pledge of permanent sobriety – she wagered it would be two weeks at most before he'd try again.

She paused a moment at the top of her home's grand staircase, admiring the gleam of the freshly polished hardwood peeking out from under the imported Persian runner her mother had bought years ago. The hours Elena had spent oiling and buffing the focal point this morning had been well worth it.

As she descended, she was careful to hold the banister loosely to keep from marring its perfect shine with her fingerprints. It was the first thing visitors saw when they entered the home, and Elena believed that maintaining its splendor was necessary. It helped draw the eye away from the home's lack of decorative pieces. While pride dictated that she do everything in her power to maintain what was left of their home and belongings, the upkeep required generous amounts of time and physical labor on her part.

There were some positives to be gleaned from all the work, especially its ability to distract her. After last night she'd certainly needed to be distracted.

After her unwanted guest had left the night before, sleep had eluded her. Rather than enjoying hours of blissful slumber, she spent the night staring at her ceiling as her stomach churned with a whole new set of worries. Finally giving up on her vain attempts at sleep, she rose from bed before daybreak and began cleaning, hoping to keep her hands and mind busy this morning.

Unfortunately, while her hands had complied, her mind had been less cooperative.

When she had shut the door in the face of the bounty hunter the night before, she had every intention of putting the incident behind her. The man was clearly misguided, at the very least he had been given inaccurate information. There were few crimes whose penalty dictated hanging, and her father was not capable of any of them.

_But why hadn't he come home?_

Shaking her head to clear the blasphemy from her mind, she forced herself to refocus on the issue at hand. No matter how many times she told herself Damon Salvatore was wrong, the fact remained that _he_ believed he was correct. His belief would be enough to ruin her family. Since her father's disappearance she'd done everything she could to hold them together, but now Damon's vile accusations had the power to destroy her tenuous grip on their security.

The thought elicited the sensation of an invisible fist clenching and twisting inside her chest, further coiling the ever-present tension there. Too many malevolent threats already loomed in her family's life, they couldn't handle any more. The bounty hunter's presence in town – and his ridiculous reason for being here – would bring even more difficulty for those she loved.

As Elena reached the bottom of the stairs and began rounding them, she came to the inevitable decision she'd been hoping to avoid. She would have to go see the man.

If her visit went as she hoped, she'd convince him to move on before word could spread about his reason for coming to Mystic Falls. Hopefully, people would believe he had made a brief visit to his brother and that was it. Her plan was to persuade him of her father's innocence. Shy of that, she hoped to reinforce his obvious absence. Why would Mr. Salvatore remain if the person he sought had been gone for a year? She'd have to ask – beg if necessary – that he keep his erroneous thoughts to himself, _especially_ from his brother.

God, she hoped he hadn't already told Stefan why he was here.

With sagging shoulders and heavy steps she turned back around, intending to climb up the same stairs she'd just come down. She couldn't very well make a call at the Salvatore house wearing such a drab dress, so she needed to change. While she was upstairs maybe she could think up a reason for visiting the Salvatore estate; she couldn't afford to pique Stefan's curiosity.

She only went up two steps before she was halted by a series of distinctive knocks on her front door.

At least the heavy brass knocker still functioned; sadly the same wouldn't be said for the deteriorating porch steps for much longer.

Hesitating, Elena inventoried who could be on the other side of the door. No one had mentioned plans to call today. Her eyes flickered to the back of the house, hoping Jenna would pop out of one of the doors and say she'd answer it. When that didn't happen, she contemplated leaving the door unanswered. She looked a fright and unannounced visitors made her wary, they could be debt collectors.

The knock came again.

With a sigh, Elena prepared to answer. If it was a debt collector she'd have to deal with them at some point, it may as well be now.

A few short strides brought her to the door. Gripping the knob, she took a steadying breath before forcing a smile onto her face and opening the door.

What greeted her on the other side was momentarily perplexing. The man was strikingly handsome, something that surprised her; she hadn't imagined collection agents to be handsome. His crisp white shirt stood out against his black day suit and neck cloth. His dark brown hair was a bit too long for fashion and the small smile on his lips and his startling blue eyes were both entrancing and… familiar.

She slammed the door closed the second recognition set in.

Flattening her back to the door as if holding dogs at bay, her heart began to race. She almost hadn't recognized the elder Salvatore dressed so finely, he had looked entirely different from the night before. Not a single trace of the rugged, saddle-weary man remained. He was clean-shaven and dressed like a gentleman, transforming himself.

_What was he doing here… and dressed like that?_

She jumped at the sound of his condescending voice from the other side of the door – and his uncanny ability to read her mind.

"If you'll let me in, Ms. Gilbert, I'd be happy to explain my presence."

He waited a moment. No response came.

On the other side of the door Elena's eyes frantically searched the house, for what she didn't know. To make sure Jenna was out of earshot? To be sure Jeremy was still abed? For a way to go back in time and undo the fact that she'd just slammed the door in his face – again.

Hadn't she just decided she was going to face him and the trouble he brought head-on? As if that wasn't reason enough to display a modicum of civility, he was Stefan's brother!

Cringing, she rubbed her forehead. How the hell was she going to fix this?

"Ms. Gilbert?"

She turned, readying to open the door again and frantically searching her mind for a good excuse for her behavior.

"Ms. Gilbert, you have two choices. Open the door and we do this in private, or stay behind it clutching your chest like a scared little schoolgirl and I will continue to shout your family's business–"

With that threat she was instantly annoyed, her embarrassment obliterated.

Ripping open the door, she hastily jerked her head to the side, indicating that he should come in – and quickly. While the Gilbert home was a mile or so outside Mystic Falls proper, progress had brought more homes nearby and one of her neighbors might happen by at any moment.

With an arrogant smile and matching swagger, Damon slowly entered, assessing the home by daylight. It certainly was meticulously clean even if sparsely decorated. Having spent years in much less civilized areas – and frankly not caring anyway – he began walking into the nearby sitting room without waiting to be invited.

Biting back the urge to censure him for his rudeness, Elena followed.

Hoping he wouldn't notice the sarcasm in her tone, she stated, "Please, by all means Mr. Salvatore, make yourself at home."

He took the liberty of briefly wandering the room, curiosity an ingrained part of his profession. It wasn't as if outlaws simply turned themselves over to him, he had to find them. That meant learning all he could about them and the people who harbored them.

Increasingly frustrated with his lack of manners – and because she knew the sooner they addressed the issue the sooner it would go away – Elena began. "Now that you're here, sir, it will save me coming to see you."

That got his attention.

Turning to face her, he quirked a brow, "Really, you were going to come see me?" His eyes raked her body before meeting hers again, "Isn't that interesting?"

Elena didn't like the way his grin mocked as if he were implying something… unseemly. Had he believed her intentions in visiting were flirtatious? Before she could set him straight, he spoke again after a breath of laughter.

"I hardly see the need for you to bother with the pretense of calling me 'sir.' The inherent respect in the salutation rings false coming from your lips."

He could see her grinding her molars, willing her rejoinder to remain lodged in her throat. Her discomfort was obvious as she attempted an awkward forced smile.

"I was raised to be polite, Mr. Salvatore."

This time he openly laughed, "Ah yes, so I've learned. In the last," he checked his timepiece, "fourteen hours, you've slammed a door in my face. Twice. You are the epitome of politeness."

Clenching and unclenching her fists, she tried to contain her mounting fury. She needed to calm herself before responding. Jeremy and Jenna's futures depended on her reaching an agreement with this insufferable mule, she couldn't let him goad her.

What made it even more infuriating was the fact that he was right. She had been horribly impolite, even though he deserved it.

Swallowing what little pride she had left for the sake of her family, she responded. "For that I am sorry. I've been under some… strain lately, and your accusations last night pushed me over the edge. My anger was for many, but you were unfortunately the nearest target."

He looked at her through squinted eyes, assessing the honesty in her words.

Damon's mind flickered back to the numerous collection notices piling up on her father's desk, understanding how that could cause strain. He wasn't entirely sure why he was pushing her about manners when he certainly had none, nor did he care that she shut the door in his face. He much preferred honest emotion to reserved coolness.

He didn't have time to further analyze his motivations as she continued.

"As for a few minutes ago, well, the only excuse I have is embarrassment." She gestured toward her clothing as a slight blush pinkened her cheeks, "I am not exactly dressed for callers."

He took a moment to look her over once again, noting more than the curves of her body this time. He wasn't particularly knowledgeable about women's fashions, but he could tell her dress had probably seen better days. It was slightly faded and seemed a bit too big, like she'd lost weight.

Perhaps she truly was another victim of her father's rather than an accomplice.

When he felt something pricking at the back of his neck, he hoped it wasn't his long-lost conscience. He certainly had no use for such a thing.

Despite trying to remain unaffected, he found himself wanting to reassure her. He cleared his throat, uncomfortable with the notion. "Clothing is clothing, Ms. Gilbert. It serves a function, nothing more. There is no reason for embarrassment," his voice lowered, "certainly not with me."

The man was confounding; he appeared awkward in his reassurance yet he seemed completely genuine. And the way he was looking at her was… different. It made her feel… warm.

Breaking the momentary spell of her soft chocolate gaze, he shook his head to refocus as he remembered that her explanation had sparked a question. "Why did you answer the door?"

Her lids obscured her downturned eyes. She didn't like where this conversation was going. "I – I thought you were someone else."

His brows pulled as he studied her, noting her discomfort. "Who did you think I was?"

She swallowed nervously, remaining silent.

Not willing to give up, he tried to figure it out for himself. By her own admission she was embarrassed to be seen in her current state. Who would she be willing to show herself to if she considered herself to appear badly dressed?

His distrust returned instantly when he reached the obvious conclusion. She may very well be the actress he had feared.

The smile on his face didn't reach his cold eyes. "Let me guess, perhaps one of your debt collectors?"

He saw the shock on her face when her head snapped up, but he continued anyway.

"I must admit, that is a smart move, playing the disenfranchised innocent to gain sympathy. I almost fell for it myself."

The color in her cheeks now came from pure, unadulterated anger. Her words were clipped. "I have not in the past, nor would I ever 'play' anything, Mr. Salvatore. Your insinuation is insulting."

His smile turned patronizing, "Oh, I'm sure you wouldn't, Ms. Gilbert."

Pointing to the door, she snapped, "Get out."

With a complete lack of grace – and an excessive amount of arrogance – he all but fell onto her grandmother's settee, tossing his hat to the side as he made himself comfortable and crossed his legs.

"Not yet. We still haven't discussed the reason I am here, and whether you're a talented little performer is of no significance. All I care about is finding your father, and you are going to help me."

He gestured for her to sit across from him.

He watched as her body practically shook with anger but she didn't say a word. He had her right where he wanted her. She was dying to strangle him, to tell him where he could go; but she didn't. She knew he held all the cards. One word about her father to the right town gossip and he could ruin her family. He was also Stefan's brother. If she wanted to get her hands on his brother's fortune, she had to play nice.

That annoying undercurrent of conscience pricked at him again as he realized something. She would have had no way of knowing a debt collector was going to pay a visit. That meant she couldn't have dressed that way purposely.

He felt no closer to determining her guilt or innocence in her father's web of deceit, but it was of no real importance. She was a means to an end and he knew of only one way to tackle problems such as these.

"I can see you're angry again, Ms. Gilbert. If it makes you feel better," he inclined his head toward the doorway behind her, "feel free to step out into your foyer and slam that door on me again. I'll just wait here until you're done."

It took every ounce of her restraint to keep from slapping him. She had never met anyone who inspired such venom in her. Instead she forced herself to calm, remembering that Jeremy and Jenna's futures were in this man's hands.

Once she was sure she was in control again, she finally replied. "That won't be necessary, Mr. Salvatore. I am sure we can reach an agreement of some kind."

Rather than sitting as he had suggested, she chose to stand, even moving closer to him in an attempt to appear unintimidated. Standing over him gave her a sense of power, even if she knew it was an illusion.

One corner of his mouth pulled up in a smirk, "I am sure we can, and you'll have to get used to calling me Damon." When her features relayed her confusion, he elaborated, "It will be much more believable that way, Elena."

Choosing to ignore his use of her first name without permission, she inquired. "What will be more believable?"

With his penetrating stare locked on hers, his grin turned almost predatory.

Slowly he stood, reducing the distance between them to inches. He knew why she'd chosen to stand and he enjoyed deliberately stripping her of her false sense of confidence. Somehow he knew she'd stand her ground as he pushed her carefully constructed boundaries and he'd been right. She didn't move an inch.

Lifting his hand, he pulled one of her silky locks between his fingers, running them down its length. He needed to give his brother some credit, the woman was a breathtaking beauty.

"Well, my dear Elena, you are about to find yourself intrigued by me; maybe even smitten."

His proximity seemed to wreak havoc on her brain as it took a moment for his words to sink in. "Wh-What? I don't understand."

He was amused by her fluster, "Why don't we both sit down and I will explain it to you. Simply put, I am going to publicly court you… and you are going to like it."

Her jaw dropped as her brows pulled in confusion. Straightening her spine as if affronted, she didn't care how snooty she sounded. The idea was preposterous and made no sense. "I beg your pardon?"

That had been the wrong reaction. Damon found himself insulted. Did she think she was too good for him, even if it was all a subterfuge? The woman needed to learn a few lessons, starting with humility. For the time being he'd settle for seeing her rattled.

His eyes turned dark, heated. Something about them made Elena hold her breath.

"Relax, Miss Perfect. The courtship will be a ruse. I must admit, Elena, no woman has _ever_ complained about my… attentions."

The deep timbre of his voice accompanied by the intensity of his stare was paralyzing. She stood motionless as he leaned in, his lips close enough to the shell of her ear that she felt his breath.

His voice dropped to a husky whisper, sending a shiver down her spine. "In fact, most women _clamor_ for it."


	5. Chapter 5

***Hope you all enjoy this chapter. A very big thanks to those of you leaving feedback and signing up for alerts. Also, I'd like to thank Mystewitch for pointing some of her reader's my way, that was beyond sweet and very much appreciated!***

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"_Most women clamor for it."_

With an exaggerated huff of disbelief, Elena turned on her heel and took several steps away, hoping he hadn't noticed the involuntary shiver that had worked its way through her body. It had obviously been in response to her complete distaste for the man and she didn't want him misinterpreting.

It had absolutely nothing to do with the way his breath tickled her ear or the nearness of his body. Nothing.

Satisfied he'd rattled her, Damon's lips pulled into a lopsided grin. "You'll have to do better than that if people are going to believe our little pretense, Elena. When I am near you, it would be best if you look like you are enjoying it."

Having regained her wits with the distance she put between them, she finally was able to form words. "That is the second time you have mentioned this pretense as if I should understand what you are talking about when I most assuredly do not. What are you proposing, Mr. Salvatore?"

She was beginning to hate that annoying and persistent grin on his face.

"It is really quite simple, _Elena_." He emphasized her name, reminding her that he expected her to use his given name. "I am going to pretend to court you, and you are going to pretend to enjoy my attentions when we're in public."

He held up a hand to silence what he knew would be a series of questions, deciding he would do his best to answer them.

"I need to find your father, and you don't want anyone knowing I am here looking for him. This charade will let me do my work _and_ leave your family's reputation untarnished. I'll come here as if I were calling on you, but once I've entered your front door you can ignore me and go about your normal business," his features contorted as he took a guess at what that may be, "writing thank you notes for the thank you notes you got that day. Meanwhile, I'll be busy looking through all of your father's belongings."

Elena shook her head, hoping the motion would somehow make his words fall into their rightful place and suddenly make sense.

In an effort to understand, she repeated what she _thought_ she heard. "You expect me to grant you access to all of my father's correspondence, files, et cetera?"

Damon nodded.

"And if you pretend to be courting me, then no one will find it odd that you're making frequent visits to my home."

He nodded again, this time looking at her like a patronizing teacher waiting for his pupil to finally arrive at the correct conclusion.

"So I will need to pretend joy at seeing you in public, but I will be free to ignore you while you're here looking through my father's things."

Tilting his head to the side, Damon responded snidely. "Aw, look at that. Ms. Elena Gilbert isn't just a pretty face; it turns out there is a brain in there as well."

Responding with disdain, Elena retorted, "Yes, there is. Which is why I can say with the utmost certainty that your plan was clearly concocted by someone possessing a slow and simple mind."

Damon clutched his chest, feigning pain. "Oh my. Such hurtful words, Elena. I'd be truly wounded if I actually cared, but I don't."

He took menacing steps toward her. "Perhaps I didn't make myself clear. This isn't one of several choices; it is your _only_ option."

Inwardly she cursed herself for rising to his bait; it was exactly what she knew she shouldn't do. For some reason, she found it impossible not to fight this arrogant man.

Doing her best to rein in her temper, she responded. "I know you seem to see it that way, but I disagree, Mr.–" she cleared her throat, "Damon."

He grinned, feeling victorious at the sound of his name leaving her lips. This was his first victory in what he knew would be several battles in their little war, and he wanted to savor this one. "Say it again."

One of her perfectly shaped brows arched, "Pardon me?"

"My name, Elena. Say it again."

He took a few more steps toward her, slowly this time. He finally came to a stop a respectable distance away.

She couldn't help herself; she could hear the unspoken order in his request and instantly dug her heels in. "No."

His features darkened.

Not wanting to relent but knowing that she needed to tread carefully, she attempted a distraction. "There are several flaws in your plan. The first is that I would never grant you access to my father's belongings because he is innocent."

Unfazed, he continued on his path as if she had said nothing.

He started closing the remaining distance between them, reveling in her discomfort. "Say it, Elena."

Her speech became more rapid as her feet began unconsciously retreating.

"And then there are our families. I cannot lie to Jenna and Jeremy and even if I could, they live here. There will be no way to maintain the ruse if they witness you rummaging through my father's belongings and me ignoring you."

Her heels made contact with the wall and she felt the contact reverberate through her body. There was nowhere left to go but she wasn't ready to admit defeat and wave a white flag.

Trying to pretend it was perfectly normal that she had backed into a wall, she continued on with her rushed speech.

"Then there is your brother. He's been… attentive toward me of late, and I do not think he'd welcome competition from you. I know you don't care about others' feelings, but Stefan would be devastated by your betrayal."

That was it. She could easily use his brother's first name but not his?

He eviscerated what little distance was left with one long, fast stride. Mere inches separated them now. He raised both arms, flattening his palms against the wall on either side of her head before leaning in.

He bit out the whispered demand. "Say. It."

She clenched her teeth. Her breathing was becoming obviously more rapid as she fought to control her anger… and something else she couldn't quite identify. Her heart thumped heavily in her chest.

Only a few seconds had passed during their standoff but it felt like hours to Elena.

After contemplating her options and not liking any of her choices, she let out a small growl before finally acquiescing. His name came out like a curse. "Damon."

He watched her eyes narrow as his self-congratulatory smirk spread. He could all but see the arrows she shot from them. Someone needed to teach the woman temperance.

Taking one hand from the wall, he lightly traced her cheek. "See, Elena, that wasn't so hard," he cocked his head to the side, "Was it?"

He returned his hand to the wall, only this time at her waist, keeping her successfully pinned there. He enjoyed the play of emotion on her face as she bit back whatever she wanted to say.

"Now, to answer your questions. First, you _will_ grant me access to your father's things. Second, your family doesn't need to know it is a ruse. If you wish to keep your father's transgressions from them, we'll need to be creative when I visit. Lastly, Stefan already knows the truth. I told him last night about your father and why I returned to this hypocritical town."

He saw the shock and… hurt on her face at that last piece of information.

"Relax, Elena. You clearly do not know my brother very well. My accusations against your father did nothing to deter him from you. His affections are as strong today as they were yesterday. He isn't stupid, and while we didn't discuss it openly, I am sure he knows you are having financial problems. The only concern he expressed was in sparing you from bad gossip. My plan was a compromise of sorts. Stefan will know it to be a ruse as well."

Elena's head was spinning. This was entirely too much all at once. Stefan knew about their finances, about the accusations against her father… and he didn't care? If she cooperated with Damon and he found nothing – which would be the obvious outcome – would he leave town sooner rather than later?

She pushed at his chest, wanting some room to breathe, to think.

He didn't budge.

"What is your answer, Elena?"

She shook her head, "I… I don't know. I am trying to make sense of all of it and I can't with you standing so close."

"Ah, now we're getting somewhere." He leaned in to whisper in her ear again, "Do I make you nervous? Does standing this close to me make you short of breath?"

This time she shoved hard at his chest. Garnering enough space, she ducked beneath his arm and got away.

Turning back, she fumed, "No, Damon. Standing that close to you makes me yearn for a bath."

He wiggled his brows.

Infuriated, she growled again, "You know what I mean, you insufferable jerk!"

With an exaggerated sigh he relented, knowing he had played with her emotions enough for one day. He must be getting soft because normally he would have suggested she punish him… any way she liked.

Holding up his hands as if he were surrendering, he said, "Fine. I'll be good." Crossing his arms over his chest, he finished, "I do, however, need an answer. What will it be, Elena? Yes or no?"

The question hung in the air between them, the repercussions of her answer making the air feel thick.

"What happens if I say no?"

He shrugged, the muscle of his jaw twitching as his eyes darkened. "It would be better if you did not."

Knowing this wasn't going anywhere she would like, she still had to know. "Answer me. What happens if I say no?"

He put his hands in his pockets, taking a deep breath before finally responding. "I came here for your father, Elena. Since that isn't going to happen, I need to find out where he may hiding. That means digging into both his personal and professional lives for any clues. You can help me understand his personal life by answering any questions I may have; his files will help with my professional queries."

He paused, annoyed at his twinge of conscience before he finally blurted out, "If you don't help by complying with the ruse, I will go about finding the information I need the normal way. That means talking to his old friends and associates here in town. Everyone in town will know why I am here and about the accusations against your father."

She'd heard people use the expression that their blood turned cold; hers felt hot, flaming hot. "You're blackmailing me."

He didn't bother denying it.

Before the conversation could go any further, they heard the front door open.

"Elena?"

It was Jenna. She'd obviously gone out and was returning.

With their gazes locked on each other, her answer hung in the air between them. Either she said yes and their pretense began immediately, or Damon would initiate his open and public inquiries. She was being given no time for thinking, for weighing her options. It was now or never.

"Elena?" Just as she finished calling for her, Jenna stepped into the room.

Knowing she had her family's future in her hands, Elena did the only thing she could.

Taking a deep breath, she forced a broad smile. Walking to her aunt's side, she took the slightly older woman by the elbow. "Jenna, I'd like you to meet Mr. Salvatore."

When he raised a teasing brow at her, she joined him in the act.

Lowering her gaze to the floor as if shyly embarrassed rather than horribly uncomfortable with lying, she corrected. "Sorry, I mean Damon."

Noting her niece's coy behavior and a certain undercurrent in the room, Jenna's eyes flicked between the two young people.

Escorting her aunt closer to the respectable and polished-looking gentleman who had taken over the arrogant bounty hunter's body, Elena finished her introduction. "Damon Salvatore, this is my aunt, Jenna Sommers."

Damon took the woman's hand, bringing it to his lips for a chaste kiss. "Pleasure to meet you, Ms. Sommers."

"Ah–" It took Jenna a moment to regain her composure. She was not expecting this scene upon returning and was completely confused. Had her niece said Salvatore, as in Stefan's estranged older brother? "It is a pleasure to meet you as well, Mr. Salvatore."

"Please, call me Damon." His eyes met Elena's, "Your niece has thankfully agreed to use my given name and I don't see a need for such formalities."

Jenna merely nodded, still trying to decipher what was going on.

Seeing her bewilderment, Damon decided he should fill in the missing pieces as Elena hadn't had much time to adjust to the idea, never mind coming up with a suitable lie.

"Please pardon my unexpected visit to your home." He placed his hand over his heart, "I have been away from town for many years and I was unaware of the many… changes. My intention in calling today was to see your brother-in-law."

He paused to look briefly at Elena, sympathy etched in his features.

Returning his attention to Jenna, he finished, "I apologize as I didn't know he'd been… missing for quite some time. I'm planning on moving back to Mystic Falls and I wanted to discuss transferring some of my investments to him."

Realizing this topic would have caused a myriad of emotions in her niece, Jenna nodded once in understanding before taking Elena's hand in hers, giving it a small reassuring squeeze. "Yes, it has been a most difficult year, but we are adjusting."

Jenna noted the way the man's eyes hardly left her niece; like some kind of magnet pulled them there and he was helpless to resist. She needed to speak to Elena, alone.

"Well, I'm sorry you came all the way here on a wasted errand. Perhaps someone at the bank could be of service to you?"

Damon's response came more slowly than it should have. Shaking his head, he laughed at himself, pretending embarrassment at being caught staring like a besotted fool.

Finally looking at Jenna, he answered, "It was anything but a wasted trip, but thank you for your concern." He bowed graciously, "Hopefully I will be back soon."

He returned his intense stare to Elena despite still speaking to Jenna, a small smile tugging at his lips. "It seems I rather enjoyed the company and wouldn't mind sharing it again."

Elena's breath caught. Had she not been privy to the game he was playing, she would have found the way he was looking at her to be positively charming and sincere, which was exactly what he intended for Jenna to see. How frightening. This man wasn't just a liar, he was an accomplished one.

Reminded of her reluctant role in this, she smiled shyly, hoping to convey her appreciation of his flattery. "That would be most delightful, Damon. Please feel free to call again."

That was it. Jenna needed to speak to Elena alone. Now.

Moving to Damon's side, Jenna tucked her arm into the crook of the man's elbow, forcing him to look at her. "Well, that's settled then. Feel free to call again." She tugged, obviously intent on escorting him out. "I will look forward to it as well, as I am almost _always_ here."

The maternal-sounding warning in her words was not missed by Damon. He decided it was best to appear appropriately chastised even if her presence would do nothing to deter him. With a sheepish smile, he responded, "I look forward to that as well, Ms. Sommers."

Having reached the main entrance, Damon looked back toward Elena. Flirting with her could be fun. She was beautiful, and knowing she'd hate every second of it only whetted his appetite.

With a knowing smile, he bid goodbye. "Until next time, Elena."

Elena forced a smile in response, slightly inclining her head in acknowledgment since slamming the door in his face was no longer an option.

Giving his attention to Jenna, Damon again gave a slight bow, acknowledging her unspoken role of guardian and his need to earn her respect.

Once he was a safe distance from the house, Jenna lightly closed the door. As soon as she heard its definitive click, she turned on Elena, a mix of shock and awe clearly evident on her face. "I will give you two minutes to explain what just happened, Elena."

"Considering I have no idea myself, that would be very difficult to do, Jenna."

"Elena! He is Stefan's brother. I may have only lived here a few years but even I have heard the rumors that he's a bounty hunter. Have you lost your mind?"

Knowing the last thing she wanted Jenna to focus on was Damon's gossiped-about profession, Elena answered that first. "You know how rumors work, Jenna. He probably stopped a petty thief at a sundry somewhere out West and by the time the information reached here he was a full-fledged bounty hunter."

Not satisfied with that answer but still plagued by her other questions, Jenna pushed on. "While I don't think it is that simple, we'll tackle that problem later. What about the fact that he's Stefan's brother?"

Elena winced, her hands twisting and pulling at each other. She wasn't prepared for these questions; she hadn't had enough time to digest the situation.

Seeing her niece's obvious distress, Jenna crossed to her, taking the younger woman by the upper arms. "I'm sorry, Elena. I let my surprise run rampant. We can handle this. We always do."

_Oh God, Jenna. If you only knew._

Unable to find the right words and afraid she'd say something she shouldn't, Elena merely nodded.

Wanting to ease Elena's obvious worry, Jenna tried to lighten the mood. "I can't really blame you for getting carried away, I'm not sure I've ever seen a man so handsome."

Elena couldn't help but chuckle at her aunt's teasing. Leave it to Jenna to notice something like that when her world seemed to be closing in on her.

Satisfied that her niece wasn't going to fall apart, Jenna turned and began walking toward the back of the house. "I don't know about you, but I always think better with tea."

She stopped suddenly as if she just thought of something. With mock wonder, she added, "Maybe that is the key to all of our problems. There is clearly something in the well water on the Salvatore estate that grows ridiculously attractive men. Maybe we can bottle and sell it?"

With a giggle at her own antics and happy to see the smile on Elena's face, she disappeared into the kitchen.

Once she was alone, Elena allowed her smile to fall. Turning, she stared at the door through which her 'suitor' had just left.

She had a sinking suspicion she'd just flown into a spider's web, and before it was all over she'd be entangled too tightly to escape intact. How in the world had her life become so very complicated in such a short period of time?

* * *

**A/N Just in case any of you are like me and notice some of the little details, I know Damon left his hat behind :) Also, don't be fooled by the quick flirtation on Damon's part (it is just who that shameless man is, and of course I love it about him); it will be sometime before things heat up between these too. I love building the tension and anticipation. Thanks in advance to anyone leaving a review.**


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